


Heart's Rhythm

by SharpestRose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, On the Line (2001)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An On the Line / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It starts when you're at some random club after a show one night. The promo tour's going well, you hear words like 'zeitgeist' and 'laid back alt-pop adult contemporary' being bandied around as if they actually meant anything a lot by the entourage of guys in suits you seem to have picked up. You don't care, you're happy as long as you're performing, and it's pretty cool to see all the different cities and stuff.

You and Julie broke, which was kind of inevitable and fairly painless as those things go. She's got an on-again-off-again with Eric now, and their eventual end is as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning. You hope it's not too messy when it comes, she's good to have as a friend, stable and healthy and normal in a way you and the guys never learnt the knack of.

The club you're at is like any other, drinking and dancing and girls that make some parts of you turn to jelly and others rock hard. You haven't had the chance to have sex with a groupie so far, because your career isn't quite at the point where there are actual groupies yet, and you've only been single for a few weeks anyway. You're mostly at the club to dance, to listen to the other music that's being called 'zeitgeist' this week. The beer's as weak as water and not cold enough, but the dancefloor is packed with eye candy and you're quite content to sit back and enjoy the show.

You see her silhouette first, long hair loose down her back and a controlled grace in her movements that slips for a fraction of a second and reveals a jagged, strange energy to the way she dances. She lets the women in close, grinding against them in her tight, tight pants and revealing little top, but the men make her stiffen and move away. 'Look, but don't touch' is written clear as day in the air around her. She shows off more flesh than a pop diva but there's no question of who owns the geography of her skin. As she twirls in time with the music her shirt rides up, showing off a stomach toned in a way that suggests actual hard work rather than an abroller and a personal trainer, a streak of pale scar breaking the smooth vanilla-caramel of her skin next to her navel.

She's hot like summer and fire and chilli peppers. You remember seeing a program on TV once that said chilli peppers activate the same chemicals in the brain as falling in love. You sort of believe that now.

She sees you looking and smirks, turning away with a flick of her hair and a wiggle of her hips. You follow even though you know you're going to get shot down in even more flames than Eric and Randy combined give off. You have to see her up close, hear her voice. Masturbation fantasies for the next twenty years demand it.

"Nice shirt." she says when you get close, before you've had a chance to do anything more than swallow a few dozen times. You're wearing one of your legion of slogan tshirts, this one reading 'I f**ked your girlfriend' across the front. "I used to have one of those." she goes on. "But my girl made me toss it. Said it was inappropriate to wear around her little sister. I don't see why, it's censored and everything."

"Yeah, for all we know it could be 'I funked your girlfriend'. Taught her to dance bootylicious style, y'know. Your girl has a dirty mind." you say, surprised that you can not only construct a real sentence, but also say something vaguely funny, considering there is very little blood left in your brain. This girl has a girl. Twenty years of use won't even take the edge off the kind of mental picture you've got now.

"Not my girl anymore." she says under the beat of the music, still dancing just out of reach. "And she was lousy in bed. Lipgloss on your inner thigh isn't the turnon it sounds."

Her mouth looks impossibly wet and shiny under the dim light of the dancefloor and the muscles in your leg are screaming to test that statement for validity.

"We, could, ah, go somewhere quieter and -" you manage to stammer.

"Funk?" she finishes with another smirk, curving one eyebrow up as if it's spring-loaded.

"Yeah." you grin. This is not happening. These things do not happen to you.

"After this song." she agrees. "So what's your name, anyway?"

"Rod."

"Figures." she laughs. "I'm Faith."

 

 

* * *

 

 

She loves the fact that you're a musician, starts calling herself Penny Lane at the hotels. Nobody seems to care that you've gained a mouthy female shadow, they just pencil 'Faith' at the bottom of the door lists for all the clubs left on the tour. Sometimes you wake up in an empty bed and find her sitting cross-legged with your guitar on her bare knees, strumming 'Jane says' or 'Into your arms', but more often she's already dressed and bored, jabbing at your stomach and sides until you admit defeat and follow her around as she inspects the local area. Graveyards interest Faith a lot, which you think is pretty strange, but whenever you bring it up she sucks on your earlobe and that stops any further thought about it.

You paint each other's toe and fingernails, glossy black varnish on pale skin. You tell her stories about the dumb exploits you and your friends get up to and she falls off the bed laughing, and you end up having sex down on the carpet next to the bed. It makes her shiver when you run your tongue along the scar on her belly, twine her hands in your hair and mumble your name under her shuddery breath.

Somehow you always forget to mention her when you call home, so by the time you get back you and Faith have been together for a month and nobody knows. She and Abbey hit it off right away, discovering common ground in a shared dislike of 'The Mummy'. Neither of them have seen it but object to the lack of accuracy in the storyline. Faith knows far more about history than you ever would have expected, really obscure stuff about embalming rituals that absolutely fascinates Abbey and leaves you feeling like the original moron. They're close like sisters almost instantly.

Kevin is less quick to warm to her, largely based on the fact that their second meeting involves Faith dressed in your 'I f**ked your girlfriend' shirt and Abbey with a bad case of the giggles, and a foodfight that ends with half a bagel on Kevin's head. You start to hold the belief that Faith is the coolest person you've ever met.

"Where's she from?" Kevin asks you one evening. You've called him over for his opinion on a bunch of new stuff you've written, mostly odes to wild girls and free spirits. "Do you even know the first thing about her? For all you know she could be an escaped convict."

"I know her name, and if she'd had a phone I would have gotten her number too. I don't know if she can name all the presidents in order, but not everybody prizes that at the top of the list." you snipe back, annoyed. "I like her a lot, ok? Like, you with Abbey a lot."

"I didn't realise you were that into her." Kevin says, and you think it's meant to be an almost-apology. "You're... well, you're not known for your nesting instinct. I was out of line, it's just with all this garbage at work I'm not sleeping too well."

Two of Kevin's workmates went AWOL a week and a half ago and he's doing most of the work they left behind. You can see the strain on his face, dark shadows around his warm eyes. You pat him on the shoulder.

"It's ok man, I'm not pissed. Do you want a backrub? I'm pretty good at those."

"No, play me some more of your stuff. I like listening." Kevin smiles tiredly. You shake your head and put the guitar aside.

"Come on, turn around, let the magic fingers do their work." you order. He rolls his eyes but does as you say, sighing as you start to massage.

"So where is Faith at the moment?"

"Out for a walk. She takes one every night, says it helps her clear her head and think about her day. I think she does it so I've got time to work on my music without having to worry about sounding bad." you explain.

"Tell her to be careful. Streets aren't so safe at the moment."

"Faith can look after herself. She's a tough cookie."

"Rod, she doesn't let Abbey hug her and they're like peas in a pod. You're the only person I've ever seen her relax around. Your tough cookie has some crumbled edges."

You smile at the stupid metaphor. "Dude, you have to quit working at that dumbass ad job. You're starting to talk like your projects."

That earns you a laugh. "I know. I think it drives Abbey up the wall. I don't know how she stands me."

You laugh too, but the comment sticks with you. That night Faith returns with half a bucket of fried chicken and a feral glint in her eyes, you've noticed that she nearly always comes back from her evening walks ready for sex, dinner, or both. Personally, you've never needed excercise to stimulate those desires in yourself.

"I know this is probably too early in both my career and this relationship to have this talk, but there's some stuff I wanna say." you tell her as she licks grease off her fingers, obviously undressing you with her eyes. "Our lives won't be ordinary. If this singing thing takes off I'll be away lot, and when I'm here I'll most likely sleep all day and be up all night. I just wanted to make that clear, because if you want to bail and go find someone who won't drive you crazy then that's ok. I'll understand."

Faith laughs. She's almost doubled over, gasping for breath.

"I took the round trip to crazy years ago, don't worry about that." she manages to say eventually, regaining her voice through the chuckles. "And ordinary? I dated ordinary. She left lipgloss on my thigh and a dagger in my gut. Ordinary and me are through."

You wish life had a rewind button. She didn't just say what you think she just said.

"Don't give me that look. That talk comes much, much later in the relationship, when I explain why we're never going to use handcuffs in bed and how come I know about burial customs and how to wrestle alligators." Faith says, grinning. You decide she really wasn't kidding about the round trip to crazy.

"Alligators?" you ask, smiling yourself. Faith just pulls you towards the bedroom and tugs at the waistband of your pants. Her mouth tastes like fried chicken and you decide she's right, ordinary is overrated.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

One evening Faith comes home with dirt in her hair and scratches on her face, and pushes you down onto the kitchen floor before you can even say hello. The sex is nasty and quick and hot, and when you're done she gets up and walks into the bedroom and locks the door behind her. You can hear her crying for hours, and find you're slightly scared of her.

Eric and Randy want details about your sex life, and you won't give them, which leads them to call you a dozen crude names. You find yourself thinking they need to grow the hell up. Kevin laughs when you tell him this, pretends to wipe a tear from his eye and says "What a proud day. My boy has become a man.". He's a big dork and you tell him so, but it's good to see him smile. He's pretty tired most of the time.

Abbey gets a grant to write a highschool textbook and you understand her glee completely, because it's just how you felt the first time you stepped into a studio to lay down some demos. She doesn't stop grinning for weeks, starts muttering about primary sources and generally acting like someone who has everything they've ever wanted. When you ask Kevin if he's ever had a dream, an ambition, he shrugs and smiles.

"Life's pretty good right now." is his answer, watching Abbey and Faith attempt to make a salad out of the vegetation found in the bottom of the fridge.

"Um, I didn't buy that. I think it grew there." you warn the two of them, getting a matching pair of smacks upside the head for your trouble.

"What about you, Faith? Any dreams you're yet to achieve?" Kevin asks. The two of them are getting along better now, Kevin appreciates honesty in people and Faith is nothing if not brutal with the truth.

"My dreams are mostly about cigars and railway tunnels." Faith smirks.

"Pity. If you stay with this jerk you'll never have your ambitions fulfilled." Kevin smirks. You're wounded.

"Hey. No fair ganging up."

"And here the rumours told me you were into that." Faith says with a theatrical wink. You think you might have found your perfect woman.

A few days later she gets a bruise below her right eye from somewhere but won't talk about it. You try to write a bunch more songs but they come out tangled up and confused. Kevin and Abbey have their first fight, about something so stupid even they don't know what it was. You and Faith each do best friend duty at local bars, listening to random complaints and keeping the alcohol flowing.

"Abbey thinks she might be pregnant." Faith admits that night as you lie together in the dark. You're playing with her hair, loving the soft, damp feel of it under your hand. Faith never remembers to put in conditioner and ends up with knots and snarls that you comb out with your fingers.

"She hasn't told Kevin, I'm guessing." you reply, surprised that you're not especially shocked by the news.

"Not yet. He's been so exhausted at work, she didn't want to add more to his plate. And she might not be, she's not sure."

You try to imagine Kevin as a father and decide the role suits him.

"Rod?" Faith says sleepily. "If anyone ever calls and asks if I'm here, you don't know me, ok?"

Her hair smells like sandalwood shampoo.

"Are you gonna tell me why?"

"Someday." she murmurs. "Not yet. Don't want to add more to your plate."

You're woken a couple of hours later by the phone ringing. Abbey's frantic, a childhood stutter creeping into her voice from stress. Kevin's missing.

 

* * *

 

Little League games.

You decide Kevin can't be dead, because of Little League games. If Abbey turns out to be pregnant then Kevin's alive, because he's gonna have to take his kid to Little League. Abbey won't have time, now that she's started her writing career. Of course Kevin can't be dead. He's going to be a baseball dad.

You don't know why you're panicking. There are a million harmless reasons that could explain why nobody's talked to him for hours, and it's not like you to assume the worst. But Faith's face is haunted and drawn, and she looks at you with wet, sad eyes and it makes your blood cold. The bruise on her cheek is quite recent but has faded to little more than a smudge on her skin, shining now with tears.

On the drive over, running red lights because you can't stand the thought of Abbey on her own pacing with worry, you pass one of the latest ads Kevin designed stretched across a high, wide billboard. It's for a brand of red wine, and depicts two half-full glasses and an open velvet ring box, a diamond catching the light. For the best moments in life, a looping script tells you across the top of the picture. Kevin was pretty proud of that one, but it makes you feel sick now.

The police are finishing up when you get there, final details for the files and an empty promise to let Abbey know as soon as they find anything. The candid snapshot they've taken for identification makes your best friend look so bland, so unspecial. Just another missing person, some vaguely nice guy with a vaguely nice life who somehow faded into the background static. It makes your chest ache. He's not just some guy. He's Kevin, he can be a total dork sometimes and he does mortifyingly stupid stuff like posting fliers all over the city to chase a girl, and he agreed to join your band when you were kids, even though he got horrible stage fright, just because you asked him to, and he never said no to you if he could possibly say yes.

Faith puts the kettle on, muttering something about a comic she used to have where this one character always put the kettle on when bad stuff happened. She asks Abbey if she wants coffee or tea, Abbey shakes her head and says "No caffiene, thanks." and drops one hand to rest on her stomach. After a second she realises what she's doing and her face sort of crumples.

You don't know how to make her feel better, so you just kind of hug her a little awkwardly. She's still sitting at the table, Kevin's papers spread out infront of her, and you're kneeling down next to her chair and wishing you knew what you're supposed to be doing.

Faith makes decaf tea for the three of you, as she carries the mugs in there's a knock at the door. Abbey's head shoots up at the noise, hope ghosting across her features before fading behind a wary self-preservation. She can't let herself hope because the letdown would break her right now.

"Hey, Rod." it's Eric. He looks pale and haggard, which you can completely relate to. "Glad you're here. The police gone?"

"Yeah." you nod. "They left a little while ago. It's just me and Faith and Abbey."

"I wouldn't be intruding, would I? I can lay low and keep outta your way until this is fixed up if you want." he offers. You feel a pang of sympathy for him and Randy, who kind of got shoved aside when you and Faith and Kevin and Abbey all got so serious so suddenly. It's like you moved up into the next level of being an adult and they stayed stuck down below.

"No, dude, don't think like that." you assure him.

"So it's ok if I come in then?"

"Of course." you say just as Faith says "No!" and you hear a crack as one of the teacups falls out of her hand and lands on the floor. She shoves you aside, pushing Eric back and pinning him to the door on the other side of the hallway outside the apartment.

"Faith, what..." Abbey trails off softly, stunned. Eric's squirming in her grip. You pick yourself up off the floor, not sure if you should hang back or go over close. You go over.

"Ow. What gives?" he complains. "Tell your psycho girlfriend to lay off, Rod."

"Now now." Faith mutters through gritted teeth, her mouth drawn back in a humourless smile. "I don't feel like playing games today. Where is he?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go!"

Crack. Faith slams Eric's head back against the wood with a sound so loud you can feel it on your own skull.

"That's two. Three strikes and you're out."

You think of Little League again. This night cannot get further away from the reality you know.

"You crazy bitch, I'll-"

"Three."

Faith reaches into the back waistband of her jeans and pulls out a sharp piece of wood. You had your hand against the small of her back as the two of you stepped inside a little while ago and you didn't feel anything. You wonder what else she's hiding, how much.

Eric glares at her. "He'll be dead before you find him."

"Guess I don't have time for this garbage, then." Faith's voice is disturbingly conversational as she stabs one of your closest friends in the heart.

Eric's oddly mocking expression freezes and dissolves, your arms and face suddenly covered in a fine ash the makes your eyes sting. Faith leans heavily against the door, sliding down and landing on the floor. Abbey starts a string of profanity that some small corner of your mind is shocked she knows. You brain has stopped processing the information your eyes are taking in.

Faith's crying quietly, and you suddenly realise you're the only person standng, so you sit down next to her. She looks at you, her own face sprinkled with the same weird dust stuff that's all over you.

"I guess I should start at the begining." she says quietly after a long time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Faith assures you that if Kevin's not dead when the sun rises he'll be safe until dusk.

"Their metabolisms are slow during the day. They don't eat much." she explains. The words sound so clinical, alien in her earthy mouth. Someone so alive shouldn't be such an expert on the dead. And you've got a problem with the big neon 'if' in her statement, too.

Abbey's shockingly calm and organised, making a list of things the three of you should collect and people you should visit and check up on. She rubs at the bridge of her nose with the heel of her hand, a ballpoint hanging loosely between two fingers, and the gesture reminds you so much of Kevin you forget to breathe for a second. He and Abbey are so perfect for each other it hardly seems real, like it's a story out of a movie or something. Somebody changed the plot without telling them, and their fluffy romance has turned into a moster matinee.

You excuse yourself and go into the bathroom, washing the grit off your face and then vomiting quietly into the sink, running the water until it all drains away and then rinsing your mouth out. Your parents always taught you to be a gentleman, to look out for the ladies in your life and respect them, but you feel like a wreck and thank whatever power is looking down on you that you've got Faith and Abbey around to be in control. They need you as much as you need them, though, and the three of you have a bunch of other people to worry about right now, so you scrub your face with a towel and go back in to where they're talking in earnest, quiet voices.

There's no answer when you try calling Randy, the answerphone tone echoes in your ear on Julie's machine. It's hard not to feel as if the whole world's been pulled out from under you.

And that's not fair, because everything had finally sort of fallen into place. Your songs are starting to sound pretty great, and there's a nice buzz of interest in seeing what you could do with a full album release. Faith and you were sort of like a story out of a movie too, probably with a slightly higher parental guidance rating than Abbey and Kevin but still a romance in your own crazy way. Everything was going perfect, or as close to perfect as you've ever had.

"Don't mourn. Not hopeless yet." Faith says to you in response to your unvoiced grief. You look over at her, conscious that your skin is clammy from being sick, your leg jiggling with tension and a desire to do something, anything. Her delicate jaw is set in a determined line, her wicked and warm mouth thin and pale. She's got the steel spine of a warrior queen, and you're torn by the twin desires to march in her army to the ends of the earth and to hide behind her and let her strength protect you. "I've fought too hard to get here, they won't take it from me again." her voice is cold.

That becomes almost a mantra in your head. I've fought to hard to get here. Abbey nods, agreeing with the proclamation, and the three of you wordlessly decide to get started.

It's raining outside, but Faith doesn't seem to notice as she strides along, one of Abbey's kitchen knives in her boot and two more stakes hidden in her clothes. You're carrying a knife too, same as Abbey, and she's got the can of mace on her keyring as well. Faith pointed out that it probably wouldn't be much use but Abbey's brought it anyway, a sheepish almost-smile on her face and a mutter about placebo self-defence.

Julie's door swings open when you push on it but there doesn't seem to be any sign of a struggle inside, which is probably a good thing. Faith catches sight of a photo stuck on the refrigerator door, you and Julie at the park a few months ago, and raises one eyebrow wordlessly. You almost call her on it, point out that you may have failed to mention a few ex-girlfriends but didn't let it slip your mind to bring up a birthright killing demons like certain people have.

"Anyone home?" Abbey calls, her little can of spray in her palm.

"Found something." Faith calls, and the two of you hurry over to where she's holding a note. The paper smells like that awful perfume Julie had that made you sneeze. Your eyes are watering just thinking about it.

"Eric," Faith reads, her voice even as she says the name. "My parents' number is four on the speed dial if you need to contact me, I can't actually remember the real number right now. Ms Castell from down the hall has the spare key and says she'll feed Tigger and Boots while I'm gone, whenever you're over it would be great if you could check that she's remembered to lock the door behind her, she's a dear but so absent-minded.

"Don't eat everything in my fridge, don't watch pay-per-view, don't break anything, I'll see you in eight days. Tell everyone I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say bye. xx Julie."

"Do you think it's for real?" Abbey asks, inspecting the letter. It looks real enough to you, sounds the way Julie talks. She's obsessed with leaving those notes around, you think it's probably a vain attempt on her part to make the men in her life more communicative.

"Whether it is or not, we've hit a dead end here. Where to next?" Faith asks. Abbey swallows and squeezes her eyes shut.

"Um. Randy." she says eventually. You avoided thinking about it for as long as you could but now you're going to have to face it. You may have to watch your girlfriend turn another of your best friends into dust and memory.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

You've never been more relieved in your life than you are when Randy opens the door dressed in a ratty old shirt and a pair of garishly bright plaid sweatpants and says "Rod, Abbey, Faith, what -?". Abbey give a stranged sob and hugs him so tightly he's choking for breath, and Faith lets out a long sigh she's obviously been holding in with nerves. For a moment, you feel better, then you remember Eric's dead and Kevin and Julie are missing in action and you don't feel better anymore.

When you've told him what's going on Randy closes his eyes for a long beat and then clenches his hands into fists, punching out the lower pane of the big window on the wall. The shattering sound is muted, he barely moves after it's done, then turns to look at Faith. It's obvious she's in charge now.

"I'm coming with you." he says. She nods.

"You got a broom?"

She breaks the handle into short lengths of wood, handing them over to you and Abbey to sharpen into points, It's indelicate, clumsy work, and splinters bite into your fingertips. The knife slips and cuts a long gash on the side of your thumb, you yelp in pain and suck on the nick. The wet copper penny taste in your mouth makes you feel ill, and you spit a mouthful of pink saliva into a piece of paper towel.

Faith says she knows a few areas of town where we might have some luck. Luck, you decide, is a very relative thing. None of you are talking much, it's hard to think of anything you could possibly say. Except...

"I love you." you blurt as you follow Faith down the stairs back to the street. Abbey and Randy are a little way ahead, furious and wounded energy propelling them forward.

"Your timing is perfect, you know that?" she says with a wry smile. "Not to mention the fact I was itching for one of those 'We might be dead by morning so I'm gonna get some tail any way I can' admissions of love."

"Hey, I already got the milk, that's not why I wanna buy the cow." you point out. Faith chuckles tiredly.

"That's the most romantic thing anybody has ever said to me, that tragic or what?"

You didn't say it just because you don't know how long you've got, but it's true that morning might never come, so you pause on the stairs long enough to kiss her gently. She tastes like tears.

You've always been a night person, it's not a good thing or a bad thing but just the way you are. That's why it's so surprising and scary to discover that the night is nothing like you ever imagined. Faith moves through it like she was born and raised there.

She grabs the arm of a young-looking guy, a random passer-by in the sluggish pedestrian traffic, and pulls him aside into the mouth of a short alleyway.

"I'm not playing games, I'm not trading banter. You're telling me what you know and then I'm killing you, got it?" she snaps. You know nothing should shock you by now but you're still surprised. There's no way of telling there's anything abnormal about this guy whatsoever.

He opens his mouth, obviously about to go against Faith's request for no banter, when Abbey jumps forward from beside you and presses a length of broom handle against his chest.

"Give me one reason, just one." she hisses. A flicker of fear shows in his eyes, Faith sees and plays on it, stepping in closer. He flinches away.

"You're the slayer, aren't you? You're going to die."

"You've got me confused with you." Faith retorts.

"Where's Kevin?" Abbey asks, pushing forward until the point of the wood breaks through skin.

"Go back to the birthing tent, wench."

"Birthing tent?" Faith's mouth curls up into a smile despite her best efforts to look menacing. "Oh, yeah, like you're more than six months old, tops. You get much action with that olde worlde routine? Now, I'm going to ask again, and you're going to answer, or my friend here is going to get you-dust all over her pointy stick."

Randy's staring wide-eyed at the three of them, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows in confusion and fear.

Crack. Faith snaps a finger on the vampire's right hand.

"His office! They're at his office!" the guy shrieks. Faith nod at Abbey, who stabs deep until your captive becomes an ash-cloud.

"They dish it, but they can't take it." Faith says in a low voice, scuffing at the mess with the toe of her boot. "Come on, we can't waste more time."

 

* * *

"Me. Because of me. This happens sometimes." she doesn't meet his eyes, her hair falling in a tangled curtain and framing her face as she keep her gaze trained on the floor. "Vampire masters track down the slayer's friends and use them as." Faith pauses, breathes in and out slowly and raggedly. "As bait. A lure. It's a trap."

"If you knew that, why walk into it?" Randy's voice is quizzical. She shoots him a hard glare.

"What else was I supposed to do, exactly? Wait until you were all dead and skip town?"

The words sting like a slap, you realise she's trying to wound the three of you into not caring about her. Maybe she thinks whatever she has left to face tonight will be easier if she doesn't carry your love with her. For all the chemistry you share with her, sometimes her motives are impossible for you to fathom.

"So what can we expect to find?" Abbey asks, her hand still wrapped around the can of mace she's been carrying all night. There's a waver on her voice but it's damped as much as she can manage.

"Kevin." Faith offers as a reply, there's nothing else she can really say anyway. You begin the slow climb to the fourth floor, heart racing from the exertion and fear.

What you actually find there, at first, isn't Kevin. It's Julie, cowering in a corner and guarded by two more vampires. You and Abbey manage to kill one of them, she delivers the killing stroke for the second time and looks grimly satisfied with the resulting dirt cloud. Randy kills the other, Faith's arm raised and ready before he shakes his head and growls "Let me". She nods and steps back, letting him have this small measure of catharsis.

Julie collapses into your arms, sobbing. Randy rocks her gently, crying again himself. You kiss her on her forehead, painfully happy that she seems shaken but unharmed. Faith's expression is cool but you see something flicker in her eyes at the gesture of affection, a split-second before the mask falls back into place and she moves towards the next room. You grab her forearm and hold her back.

"You can do this. You're my crazy girl." you tell her. "Ok?"

"Ok." she nods, a small smile for you before it's time for business and you walk through the door together.

There are a lot of vampires in this room. A lot. You're not so great with crowd estimates but you're talking fifteen or twenty at least. Faith doesn't seem too phased by the number, which is almost scarier than the monsters themselves.

"Get to him!" she shouts at you, spinning under one blow and kicking up at another. You follow her line of vision and see Kevin shoved against the wall, his back resting against a filing cabinet.

He's unconscious, skin icy cold and clammy under your hands as you try and slap him awake the way you've seen in movies. He's limp as a wet ragdoll, boneless and bruised. There are cuts on his wrists and shoulder, his shirt stained a wet black in the dim light of the room.

"Kevin, come on man, wake up." you shake him, head lolling to one side. You tilt it up and try slapping him again, but there's no sign of life. You're not even sure if he's breathing.

"Come on, come on. We're gonna get out of here." you keep talking, as much to yourself as to him. It's like a lifeline, a constant stream of logical phrases when everything else is crazy.

His eyelids flutter and your heart leaps into your throat. "Oh, thank God, man, I was so worried." you're breathless with relief. Kevin's mouth opens a little, his head turning, eyes still mostly shut. You're about to start talking again, something inane and reassuring, but the words die on the air as his lips part against the cut on your thumb, the tip of his tongue pressing against the shallow gash as he begins to suck.

 

* * *

 

"Faith!"

Your shout comes out more like a scream. You try and pull away from Kevin, his teeth biting down in a blunt ache as he resists the movement. It wouldn't take much effort to wrench yourself free, he's barely moving at all, but you're paralysed with shock and dismay.

Faith swears loudly and stabs at the vampire she's fighting, killing it and running over to crouch beside you, pressing her fingers against the curve where Kevin's jaw joins his neck.

"For a yuppie, Kevin, you're wicked tough." she says after an endless moment, turning to you. "He's ok, he's got a pulse. Feel it?" she presses your free hand against the side of his throat and after a second you do feel it, a light thump against your guitar-calloused fingertips. No drum beat, no other rhythm, has ever made you elated like this.

"So what-" you trail off, inclining your head to point out that your thumb is still being held captive by Kevin's mouth, you arm's coming up in goosebumps from the feeling of his cool tongue against your skin.

"Reflex action, his body knows it's dying, once his heart stops he'll turn into-... We gotta get him outta here. Move your hand away." Faith orders. His eyelids almost open again as you comply, a breathy groan escaping his lips.

"Kevin?" you suddenly realise Abbey's beside you, that the world's still going on all around. Randy and Julie are by the door, trying to get it shut and keep the vampires out.

"We gotta lift him. One, two, three." Faith takes charge, the three of you hefting Kevin up between you, Abbey cradling his head, stroking his forehead gently. "Randy, come take my place carrying, I'll clear a path."

You're almost back at the stairs when the master vampire comes into view. You may not be adept at spotting the ordinary sort, but it would be hard not to pick this guy out of a lineup. His skin is leathery looking, drawn back in a permanent snarl over yellowed teeth.

"Slayer." he hisses. Faith holds her chin up, one eyebrow cocked high in a show of bravado. The vampire turns to look at the rest of you. "These ones can go. I only want you."

"No." Randy is shaking with angry heartbreak. The vampire laughs.

"Loyalty? To her? She's not even gutter trash. Worthless little whore."

Faith turns to you. "Rod, I can handle this. Take Kevin to a hospital."

You can see the lie in her eyes. If you walk away now you'll never see her again, or worse, she'll stand in your doorway asking to be invited in. You don't know if you'd be able to say no to that, so it's better all round if you stay with her now.

"The fair one died for her friends." the master vampire sneers. "Did you know that?"

Faith's hand comes up, in a shadow mimicry of Abbey's maternal gestures earlier, to rest against the scar you know traces up her skin underneath her shirt.

"Yes, I know. But she was fighting a god. And you're just someone who needs to think about switching to a more intense moisturising routine." she spits back.

"Brave words, little warrior. But I can smell your fear." his voice is low and makes a cold shiver run like lightning up your spine. "You know it's time for sacrifices to be made. Are you ready to die for them?"

Faith takes a hesitant step forward, shooting a glance back at the rest of you. A thousand protests bubble up inside you, and you hear Abbey say 'no!', but before there's time to react or do anything Faith's talking again.

"I don't want to die. So no, I'm not ready for that. But I'm ready to fight for them. That's hard, too. Living is harder than dying." she tilts her face up to look the vampire square in the eyes, all her fire and fury in her gaze. "But I'm up to it."

The hand resting against her scar moves so fast you can't even see it, grabbing at a stake tucked in her waistband. The vampire lashes out to strike her but Abbey's there with her little can of mace, spraying at his eyes. You pull your kitchen knife out and swing, a hundred hours of baseball behind your arm as you aim for the neck. Faith ducks in below the confusion and strikes up at the heart, and somehow you all manage to move out of the way fast enough to avoid being coated in thick gritty ash.

"Abbey..." Kevin mutters, propped up between Julie and Randy. Faith closes her eyes, breathes in and then out slowly, and looks at you.

"Hospital. Now."

 

 

* * *

 

One year later

 

The crowd sounds like a hive of insects, buzzing over buzzing out in the dark beyond the footlights. Occasionally a camera flash goes off, a second of blindness as flare-spots dance in bright colors infront of your eyes. There have been moments more surreal in your life, no question of that, but this is most certainly the most fun of all the surrealities you've faced.

"I want to say hi to a bunch of people who're here tonight." you say into your microphone. "Firstly, everyone who bought the album, which I'm told is going to go gold within the week. And Mick Silver and my producers and everyone, without whom there wouldn't be an album in the first place. And my girlfriend, who is probably hiding up in the back rows somewhere because she likes having room to dance. Wouldn't be here without you, crazy girl."

The crowd's buzz doesn't falter. Your publicist told you not to mention Faith, saying it could hurt your popularity with the teen girl market, but you didn't pay attention. You rarely do when helpful suggestions are subtly hinted at, like the one about maybe changing your hair. When hell freezes over, you might consider it.

"So, um, this first song's a cover, I don't know if you know it. It's for my girlfriend, and also for my god-daughter, Charlotte Erica Gibbons, who's three months old today." you lean over your guitar and begin to play 'Simply Beautiful' by Al Green.

Faith sat you down one afternoon a week after the longest night of your life, the day after Kevin was allowed home from Cook County General. This time she told you everything, not just the need-to-know stuff but all of it, alligators and girlfriends and the rest. It looked like it was hard for her to say some of the things she had to tell you. When she was done, you didn't look up at her right away, turning the facts over in your mind, working out how you felt. Then you kissed her gently, and tangled your fingers in her hair, and promised that you didn't care what she'd done. You loved her.

You still do. Sometimes you think this might be It, true love and forever and all that stuff. Faith wasn't kidding when she said living was harder than dying, and you've sure had your share of rough spots. But you love her, and she loves you, and mostly that's enough. Lipgloss on your inner thigh is still a turn on.

Kevin and Abbey haven't had the smoothest time, either. It's taken him a while to get over his injuries, even now he sometimes goes very quiet and still at random moments. Abbey does all she can to be his cornerstone, keep him tethered to the world, and it takes a lot out of her. But the scars are fading, and you know he's going to be the best baseball dad the world has ever seen.

All in all, though, you're all much closer to living happily ever after than it seemed possible. Charly's a beautiful baby, her mother's warm smile and her father's piercing eyes. You keep threatening to teach her how to sing. Faith's working part-time as a helper, mostly photocopying and filing the endless mountains of paper that Abbey and Kevin manage to accumulate through their work, but she always ends up playing silly baby games like peek-a-boo and round-and-round-the-garden instead.

You asked her, once, if she's ever thought about kids of her own. It's not the most sensible idea you've ever had (not that you're known for them anyway), what with the touring and uncertain cash flow and complete lack of maturity, but maybe someday it might be something to think about. There's no hurry, anyway.

You're content to take each day as it comes.


	2. Chapter 2

Kevin eats meat cooked very rare now. He likes tomato soup a lot more than he used to, and puts ketchup on everything. You've never seen him touch cranberry juice before, either, or V8. Red wine's not a new thing for him, but in conjunction with the rest you notice that as well.

Sometimes, if you watch him eat for too long, your thumb begins to feel stiff and sore and it's difficult to play guitar. Sometimes, though, you can't help but watch him.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" he asks you on one occasion, when you were staring fixedly at the tip of his tongue against the white of his teeth. You nod, reaching over and swiping at the corner of his mouth with your fingertips, brushing away an imaginary crumb. His lips feel satin-soft and cool against your skin.

You haven't written any new songs in a while.

On a hot summer afternoon Faith and Abbey are playing under the sprinkler with Charly, clapping their hands and laughing at her baby gurgles of delight. Abbey lifts her damp hair off her neck and you catch sight of the telltale dark circle of a hickey on skin that glows from sweat and water. You imagine Kevin's mouth sucking gently, drawing the blood close to the surface, leaving a flushed mark behind when he moves away, golden flesh unbroken.

It takes hours for you to fall asleep that night, and when you do you dream of a steady, thumping knock on your door, a thud-thud as even as a heartbeat. It's Kevin waiting outside, his cheek pale and cold and hard when you reach out to touch him. He grabs your arm, his fingers too strong to pull away from, his thumb stroking back and forth over the tracery of veins in your wrist. He wants you to invite him in.

"Come in." the words are hoarse on your breath. He smiles then, a snake-smile, nothing like the easy grin he used to wear, and steps inside, pushing you down onto the floor and kissing you.

You're pinned and warning bells are ringing in your head but it's impossible to escape, when you try to squirm away he just laughs, the hand circling your wrist clenching in so tight you're sure something is going to snap. His mouth tastes meaty and humid, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue darting in to swipe across.

You open your mouth to protest but Kevin grinds his hips down against yours and the protest becomes a gasp against his mouth, you can't help but go limp under him. He moves away from your lips and you whimper, because you need him there forever, but then his tongue swipes, catlike, up the line of your throat, and his teeth scratch against your skin lightly. You arch into the touch and Kevin lets go of your wrist, which is aching now and coming up in a bracelet of bruises.

It doesn't hurt, the bite, you can barely even feel it as Kevin's hand deftly slips inside the boxer shorts you sleep in at the same second his mouth closes on your neck. He feels warm against you suddenly, even though you dimly remember thinking him cold at the door. You think you might be seeing stars, but it's hard to tell one sense from the other so maybe you're hearing them.

Kevin's wrist is at your mouth, torn open in a jagged line, a dark wet smear welling up from the wound. You recognise the salty iron taste and then an orgasm hits you like a heavy red wave.

You sit up in bed with a gasp, trembling from the intensity of the dream. Faith rolls over sleepily, and smirks at your predicament.

"Men. You all stop maturing at the age of fourteen." she mumbles before drifting off again. You can feel the rapid beat of your pulse in the thin scar on your thumb.


End file.
